


He is Light

by peppermint_wind



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermint_wind/pseuds/peppermint_wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost Christmas, and it's time for Hajime to stop running away.</p><p>---</p><p>"Three glasses of eggnog poured too strong, and Oikawa has wrapped himself in Christmas lights."</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is Light

**Author's Note:**

> back after 6 months to post a fic i stayed up writing until 2:30am on christmas morning, lol hello everyone!

_ Two Nights Before Christmas _

 

When Oikawa was a kid, he insisted Santa Claus was an alien. 

_ “That’s how he gives presents to everyone in one night, Iwa-chan! He flies his spaceship!” _

In retrospect, his theory was pretty solid for a seven year old— that Santa had crash-landed on the North Pole, produced toys at lightening speed with alien-technology, and flew around the earth in his spaceship. It wasn’t quite like the original, but Hajime always liked Oikawa’s version better.

Oikawa, knees pressed to his chest, festive socks on his feet, curls up on the couch twelve years later after announcing his grand theory, and Hajime looks at him in the same state of wonder he did when they were seven. He’s blowing on a cup of tea, his cheeks pink from the cold that won’t stop seeping into their apartment. His glasses fog up from steam rising from his cup, and his laugh is like sleigh bells.

“I hate when they do that,” he says, looking at his glasses and making himself go cross-eyed.

Hajime grins, reaching for the glasses. “Just take them off, stupid.”

He slips the glasses from Oikawa’s nose, folding them before placing them on the coffee table. Oikawa blinks, but doesn’t say anything, going back to taking little sips of tea with squinting eyes. He looks in the direction of their two-foot tall Christmas tree in the corner of the room, squints harder, then turns back to his tea.

“I’m going to miss this,” he sighs, sinking further into the couch.

“Miss what?”

“Just  _ this. _ ” Oikawa gestures vaguely to their half-assed decorated apartment. “Christmas.” He waves his hand at Hajime. “With you.”

Hajime stares. “You’re such a fucking sap during the holidays.” He kicks lightly at Oikawa’s knees, and Oikawa holds his tea up high, glaring down at him.

“Hey hey, I’m going to spill this on you, stop it, I’m being serious.”

Hajime sticks his foot closer to Oikawa’s face, grinning.

_ “Iwaizumi Hajime!”  _ he squeaks, but he’s laughing, too. 

And for all Hajime brushes it off, he can’t pretend like he isn’t going to miss this, too. He can’t pretend how afraid he is of losing it. So he doesn’t say anything at all, distracts Oikawa with playful shoves and insults to keep the conversation on hold. Oikawa eventually slaps his foot away, and Hajime gives, reaching up and ruffling his hair instead.

“Why did you even agree to live with me?” Oikawa laughs as he immediately tries to flatten down his hair.

“Because you couldn’t live without me.”

The laughing dies down, and Oikawa stares at him from over his cup with cheap Christmas lights twinkling in his eyes. Hajime’s breath catches in his throat. “Mmm,” he hums, “maybe that’s true.”

Hajime swallows. He’d expected him to be angry, not to  _ agree _ .  “I mean,” he starts, mouth dry, “you can’t cook, you could barely do the laundry when we first moved out.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa says into his cup, eyes still on him.

“And you never take breaks when I’m not around. You’d work yourself to death probably.”

“Mhmm.”

“So I had to make the responsible decision and agree to look after you. It was the only way.”

“I know, Iwa-chan. Thank you.” He sips at his tea, finally closing his eyes. “At least I make better tea than you though.”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s about the only thing.”

Oikawa shrugs, finishes his tea in one gulp, and places it aside before laying himself onto Hajime’s legs. He reaches blindly for the blanket they keep on the couch and pulls it over himself, yawning into the fleece; soft and peaceful and unlike anything Hajime feels in that moment.

His muscles stiffen as Oikawa languidly makes himself comfortable in his lap, and he screams at his body to stop freaking out, to just get over it already.

_ It’s just your best friend. _

He breathes out slowly, counts to ten.

_ One...two...three— _

_ But you’re in love with him, too. _

He shuts his eyes, trying to remember what it was like before he realized he liked Oikawa more than he should; before everything became tangled and confusing.

“Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?” He grabs for Hajime’s arm hanging at his side. “Relax,” he breathes.

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“So are you.”

There’s a bite to their words; something left unsaid behind them that they ignore. That they’ve ignored for a while now.

Oikawa’s eyes are still closed, his breathing steady.  He radiates warmth like a winter bonfire; a warmth that crawls its way into Hajime’s chest and keeps him still. He watches Oikawa drift off, a weird heaviness in his heart when he thinks about how many more Christmases like this they’ll have together. A few more years and Oikawa could be married. He could have a wife and a family of his own, maybe even a dog that he’d rather spend the holidays with than his old childhood best friend. Hajime weaves his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, looks at how he glows in the dim light, and knows this isn’t something that can last forever.

***

_ The Night Before Christmas _

 

Three glasses of eggnog poured too strong, and Oikawa has wrapped himself in Christmas lights. 

Hajime isn’t much better off, sitting sedately on the floor with his back pressed against the couch. He watches his best friend twirl the lights around himself, spinning in circles with a grin on his face as Hajime laughs like they’re in high school again. The lights blur as he spins and spins and eventually collapses to the floor in a tangle of flecks of glowing white, like the fireflies that would dance around them in the summertime when they were kids.

“Idiot,” Hajime mumbles fondly into his eggnog, taking one long sip after the other. “You act like you did ten years ago.”

He smiles. “I definitely wasn’t downing cups eggnog ten years ago.”

“No, that’s new,” he laughs as Oikawa crawls over closer, making sure not to unplug the Christmas lights that trail behind him. “You still believe in alien Santa Claus?”

Oikawa laughs too loud and bright for a Christmas Eve night in their thin-walled apartment, but Hajime can’t stop himself from grinning back.

“Of course I still believe Santa’s an alien; it’s only logical.”

“Oh yeah, so logical.” Hajime rolls his eyes, but his smile is still wide when Oikawa half-heartedly pushes him away.

“Whatever, you agreed with me back then.”

“Mhmm.”

Hajime lets the conversation drop, lets the hum of the heater and distant Christmas music envelope them. His body is warm from the eggnog, and Oikawa swaying quietly to the music, his face peaceful and glowing, isn’t helping the heat that’s beginning to rise to his cheeks. Their shoulders brush when Oikawa leans in and Hajime, for once, leans back, letting his head rest on Oikawa’s temple.

“What if we just never move out?” Oikawa says, his words slurring a little at the edges.

“Pretty sure your mom would freak out if you don’t give her another dozen little Oikawa’s running around the house.”

“Don’t care,” he breathes, settling himself closer into Hajime’s side. “Never wanted kids.” Hajime can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Just want to be here.”

“You’re drunk…”

“It’s still true.” Oikawa runs his fingers over the carpet between them, tracing patterns of stars and Christmas trees.

“Tooru,” Hajime sighs like he’s saying,  _ don’t do this to me _ , and Oikawa doesn’t listen, he never listens, just drapes his little finger over Hajime’s pinky on the floor.

“What are you so scared of, Iwa-chan?”

“We’re not doing this,” Hajime tries to assert, but his voice is wobbly and his body won’t move away. “We’re not— I’m not going to do that to you.”

Oikawa lets his fingers fit in the spaces in between Hajime’s, his head dropping onto his shoulder. “I want to spend every Christmas with you.”

“You say that to someone you’re going to marry, not your best friend.”

“Then marry me,” he says into his skin, and Hajime swallows like he’s drinking down fire.

“You don’t—”

“Don’t say I don’t know what I’m talking about, I know what I’m saying.” His head stays on Hajime’s shoulder, but his eyes drift up to his face, not backing down. “If you really want to go through the motions every Christmas with some girl you’re not even attracted to, then go ahead, but I always thought you were braver than that.”

Hajime doesn’t look at him; instead shifting his gaze around the apartment that they’ve called home since graduating. There’s Oikawa’s plants lined up on the windowsill (the only living thing Hajime would allow Oikawa to buy when they first moved in.) Two years later and they’re still growing, leaves reaching towards the window, healthy and alive.

The wine-stained spot in the carpet shows the aftermath of a much drunker Oikawa than the one tonight, plastered on their first New Year’s living together, teasing Hajime to kiss him at midnight.

They did.

Neither of them mentioned it in the morning.

There’s the sweatshirt laying across the arm of the couch that they’ve both worn so many times that he forgets whose it was originally, little holes in the cuffs of the sleeves, and worn down lettering of their old high school.

The blanket on the floor has covered the two of them more times than Hajime can count, hiding their pressed together knees and barely touching fingertips that they both pretended not to notice.

Hajime finally looks down at Oikawa, and wonders when  _ playing it safe _ became  _ running away _ , and realizes that he’s tired of all of it.

“You’re so annoying,” he says, which isn’t as romantic as Hajime had intended, but the kiss he leaves on Oikawa’s forehead makes him light up anyway.

“Are you finally giving into my charms, Hajime?” Oikawa teases lightly, but his cheeks are red, and Hajime knows it’s an act.

“What charms?” Hajime teases back, kissing him again on the cheek.

Oikawa stirs from his spot against him, bringing his head up only to place their foreheads together. “Nevermind, I take it back, go marry someone else.”

Hajime smirks. “Always a bad liar.” He places the next kiss just to the side of Oikawa’s mouth.

The color in Oikawa’s face deepens like the color of wine. “You too. Always--”

He’s cut off by the taste of Hajime on his lips.

“I know,” Hajime sighs, voice thick with nutmeg and bourbon, “we should have done this sooner.” He brushes their lips together softly. “I’m sorry.”

Oikawa kisses back just as soft, grinning slightly. “Are you drunk, Hajime?”

“A little bit,” he admits, smiling into Oikawa’s mouth. “I’m not the one wrapped in Christmas lights, though.”

“Got me there,” Oikawa laughs quietly.

He plays with their fingers for a minute, looking down at the way they fit together, before looking back up and kissing Hajime’s jaw. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.”

“It’s Christmas,” Hajime points out, only realizing it then himself; the clock on the end table reading 12:18 AM. “Merry Christmas, Tooru.”

Oikawa smiles like a kid on Christmas morning, a little alien-loving boy that wakes up to presents delivered straight from Santa’s spaceship.

Years later and Hajime is still in love with that same boy. Years from now and, again, nothing will change. Oikawa will be there every Christmas, bringing wonder into Hajime’s eyes, making them sparkle like the Christmas lights dangling from Oikawa’s shoulders.

“Merry Christmas, Hajime.”


End file.
